He had to show the others he was the greatest. The wisest. The master. He would confound them. Outfox them. They might have had the better equipment at their disposal: their spanking new 16 track mixing consoles. Top of the range. But they didn’t have the secret. That was God-given. They just wanted to get their records out there, and watch the money roll in. They didn’t have the soul for it. Or the knowledge. The sleight of hand. Those ghostly fingerprints. The supple imagination. The fearlessness. They would fail. He would surely triumph. Jah would make it be. Lee Perry. The Upsetter. Scratch. He gave the world Bob Marley and they pinched his protégé from under his nose. “Money talks”, he said. He invented dub, but the credit went to Tubby and the others. Rainford Hugh Perry had a few scores to settle. He wasn’t going to lose ground to Tubby, ‘Striker’, The Mighty Two, Coxsone, not anyone. Not anymore. And he wasn’t going to let Chris Blackwell’s opportunism finish him off. He was going to make music that would bewitch and mystify the world, create sounds beyond their reach. And so he did.
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